


Imbroglio

by Phixie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Angst and Humor, Duelling, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Legilimency, M/M, Mystery, Not Epilogue Compliant, Occlumency, Party Games, Potions, Romance, Room of Requirement, The Sorting Hat, Truth Serum, Truth or Dare, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phixie/pseuds/Phixie
Summary: Since the war, Draco found himself feeling sick, overwhelmed, and confused, but couldn’t place why. How Harry felt? Well, Harry felt bloody brilliant.-A mystery takes place during a practice of inter-house cooporation, and Ron remains the only one with an ounce of common sense.





	Imbroglio

•.*

 

 

“Hermione, I don’t think this is what McGonagall meant when she said ‘practice inter-house cooperation’.”

Hermione flattens her hands on the table, looks over, and shoots Ron a look that reads “go on.”

Ron then nervously does what he does for comfort, eat. As he stuffs another sausage in his mouth, she says, “Well then, Ronald, why did she already approve the use of the Room of Requirement?"

Harry silently watches the now-familiar bickering from across the table, and chuckles softly into his mug of tea.

Ron shrugs, and spits food through, “You’re practically throwing a  _party,_ love. We’re bloody adults now, and McGonagall’s far from stupid.”

Ron did have a point, they weren’t kids anymore. Seeing the grown faces of his friends made Harry’s heart ache, unaware of how fast they’d gotten to be eighteen, and proud of all they’d done to get there.

_“And?”_  Hermione counters. “We’ve gone through war together! Maybe we need a- a party! We need to be young, to have  _fun!_  It’s only healthy. And plus, with all of us Eighth Years isolated, we’re more divided than ever!”

And boom, the argument has gotten interesting. Harry internally tallies 1 to 1.

“But you invited Slytherins,” Ron says. “and not just any Slytherins,  _Malfoy’s Slytherins.”_

1 to 2.

_“And?”_  Hermione repeats. “Your Slytherin discrimination is exactly why we need something like this! After everything I thought it would be nice for us to spend time together-  _all of us.”_

Harry was all too familiar with paranoia, and after everything she’d just said, thought somebody must have Polyjuiced into Hermione’s skin. But Hermione had changed since the war. Still sharp as a knife, she was now more confident, relaxed, and dare Harry say-  _fun._  On the other hand, Ron had wanted to finally indulge in a slice of peace, and Harry was more than happy to give it to him.

“So then what exactly is your plan for tonight?” Ron asks, eyebrows up behind his mug. Harry’s gaze flicks to Hermione as she straightens.

“Well, I want the most of it to be a surprise, but I figured we could all meet in the Room of Requirement at 8.” she explains.

“And again, McGonagall’s not stupid. She’ll have charmed the room to be as fun as a bloody library.” Ron mutters.

“It  _will_  be fun. Yes, she’ll likely spell the room to prohibit anything inappropriate, but that’s not really on the agenda anyway.”

“With a bunch of Slytherins,  _Malfoy’s Slytherins,_ we’ll see.”

Harry feels his chest constrict. The thought of being around a bunch of confident and shrewd Slytherins for a night didn’t sound all too inviting. Especially if one of them was Malfoy.

Harry and Malfoy hadn’t really interacted since summer. In late May, at the Malfoys’ trials, Harry had spoken in favor of Narcissa Malfoy, explaining how she had lied to Voldemort about Harry’s death, and therefor was a large part of his ultimate defeat. Lucius Malfoy, removed from his position at the Ministry and put on house arrest, also avoided Azkaban for claiming he “let Potter escape” during the war. The Wizengamot seemed to overlook the fact that Harry was held in the Manor in the first place, when Lucius gave the names of several Death Eaters in hiding. Draco Malfoy was pardoned as well, deemed “influenced” by Voldemort and “lead astray” by his Death Eater father. Though difficult, Harry had spoken at his trial too, and then had later received a letter from an exquisite eagle owl saying,

_Potter,_

_Thank you._

_-M_

The letter remained tucked safely away at the bottom of Harry’s sock drawer.

Soon after came the Malfoys’ public apology, and donation of an unspeakable amount of galleons towards the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Malfoy then showed up, chin high and leading his friends to aid in the rebuilding. The last time Harry’d seen him was the conclusion of the reassembling, until last Monday night, when they’d all arrived for their N.E.W.T.s courses. Harry’d been walking on the Hogsmeade platform when he smelled the same spice cologne he’d smelled in the Manor, before Malfoy’s shoulder bumped his. The last thing he said to Harry was,

“Watch it, Potter.”

The first three days of their N.E.W.T.s course had gone as expected. They were greeted with a welcome speech from McGonagall, so often quoted by Hermione that Harry’d practically memorized it.

_“If I may have your attention, please._

_To the First Years that have just been sorted into your houses, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To the returning students, welcome back. And to the Eighth Year N.E.W.T.s scholars and faculty, a very special welcome back to you. Without you, and your generous efforts this summer, we and Hogwarts would not be here tonight._

_We have all been through enough to last a lifetime. But you must remember- this world needs you. Hogwarts needs you. Your classmates; your friends; your families; need you. Every single one of you has a spot in Hogwarts’ heart, and deserves to be here. And let me say, we are very happy to have you._

_Though as important as our houses are, we must remember, we are all on the same path; the same side. Discrimination and exclusion against any House will not be tolerated. It is important we practice inter-house cooperation, or risk having these sad events take place once more._

_Mental Healers from St. Mungo’s have joined Hogwarts’ staff. Anybody who requires assistance, or knows somebody that does, can find them to the east of the Hospital Wing._

_Like a phoenix, we all rose from the ashes. We must not let the darkness continue to shadow our light. Your houses are your family, and Hogwarts is your home. Never forget this._

_Now I believe there is more than one grumbling stomach in the hall. By all means, tuck in.”_

Harry’s classes were all too familiar to require introductions (Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Potions). Harry figured he’d be knowledgeable enough on Defense, and had read enough of Hermione’s books when in the forest to finally feel up to date on everything else.

The few returning Eighth Years had been placed into a separate dorm in a secluded part of the castle. Still considered a part of their old houses, those that returned to Hogwarts had their own new common room, decorated with couches, rugs, and curtains a mixture of all the House colors ( _“Absolutely ghastly!”_  Parkinson had said upon arrival). They also had their own bedrooms, bathrooms, a small kitchen, and a miniature library (this earned several squeals from Padma and Hermione). The common room was found, only on their second night, decorated with plants by Neville, transfigured aesthetically by Greengrass, and littered with Quidditch necessities along with a mixture of jumpers by Ron and Harry.

Harry roomed with those he always had. In a rectangular golden and red dorm, Harry’s four-poster bed sat nearest to the windows. Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean kept their room notably messy, and smelling a mixture of potions and old socks. Harry felt right at home amiss the discarded coursework and poorly hung team posters.

Across the hall roomed Zabini, Nott, Goyle, and Malfoy. Only ever catching a glimpse inside of their room, Harry noticed it was much cleaner and minimalistic, with decor of silver mirrors and grey four-posters with forest green hangings. Macmillan, Fletchley, and Smith were the only returning male Hufflepuffs, and roomed at the end of the hall. Upstairs were the girl’s dorms, and though he hadn’t cared to explore, Harry’d heard from Hermione that she roomed with Parvati, Padma, and Lavender. This left Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Greengrass to a room, and Abbott and Bones to another.

And how Harry’d felt? Well, Harry felt bloody brilliant. He was at Hogwarts, his first real home, surrounded by those he loved and finally, calm. The most stressful thing on his mind were N.E.W.T.s, which were months away, and though he didn’t like it, were probably in his favor. Harry was often found surrounded by his friends and laughing at their jokes, eating mince pies, doing coursework, and flying.

It’s not to say it wasn’t odd- being back at Hogwarts after everything that’d happened. Harry still noticed the shaky hands, heard the cries from his roommates in their sleep, and saw the stones in the walls with curse burns on them, but he had his  _friends._  He had always had them, loyal and loving and  _there._  They were all closer now, in so many ways.

Harry now looks around the Gryffindor table, seeing Dean joke about something to Seamus, arm around his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, the presence of Luna, who was kissing Neville’s cheek as Ginny messes with his hair. Ron blushing, after a moment with Hermione Harry must’ve missed. Lavender whispering into Parvati’s ear. Harry knows that they’d get through anything together, and smiles to himself, his heart beating slowly in his chest. 

Harry wonders if it’s like this for everyone- united as a family- and looks around the Great Hall. His eyes land instinctually on the Slytherins, gaze moving over the back of heads and chewing cheeks until finding someone with elbows resting on the table, ashy blonde hair, and grey eyes gazing back into his.

  


•.*

  


Draco’s breathing stops as his thoughts narrow to Potter.

There it was, that unidentifiable feeling again, and Draco did not at all like it.

“Draco darling, pass the honey.” Pansy says, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Attention brought back to the table, Draco passes her the jar. When he looks up again, Potter is now laughing with Thomas. Pansy pours a quite generous amount of honey over her toast, as well as her hand, before sucking the sweetness off of her fingers.

_“So!”_  she says with a smack. “How are we feeling about it? I, for one, am quite excited to have some fun with the Gryffindors.” A devious smile then spreads across her face.

Blaise sat across from them, quietly stirring his coffee. He then speaks, just over the chatter of the hall, “The worst thing that could come from our attendance is boredom.”

“No surprise there!” Millicent barks. “You’re so damn supercilious everything bores you! I bet the bloody war did!”

Draco chuckles internally.

“Theo? Greg?” Pansy asks.

Greg shrugs, too into his breakfast. From the left, Theo states, “I think it’s Draco’s decision.”

The fate of their Friday night falling on Draco’s shoulders was worrying, but he understood why it had done so. After explaining to his friends what had happened at the trials, they had a silent agreement to avoid the enticing topic of Potter. Likely because they no longer knew how Draco felt about him. Hell if Draco knew, either. Disconcertingly, whenever Draco saw or even thought of Potter, either he’d get a chill up his spine, his heart would race, or his mind would blur.

So since Sunday, Draco had safely decided to avoid Potter overall. The only thing was, he was beginning to  _miss_  him. Draco’s being was longing for the stubborn, sarcastic, pain-in-the-arse attention from Potter.

And hell if Draco was going to deprive himself any longer.

A smile slowly grew across Draco’s face, one that Pansy caught instantly.

“I think it’s time we gave the Gryffindors a lesson on how to have a proper Friday night.”

  


*.•

  


Harry sits in the back of double Charms, doodling stray snitches and swirls into the margins of his parchment. Neville, his desk partner for today’s assignment, sits to his right, paying close attention to Flitwick.

“…one must take charge of it, direct it, control it.” the professor babbles.

Harry yawns, thinking he probably should have had more breakfast.

“Ah! Mr. Potter! We all know you are more than capable of the Summoning Charm, but how about you put my findings on wandless magic to the test?” Flitwick squeaks.

Harry freezes, partially from being put on the spot, but mostly from the memory of being wandless in the woods for weeks. A blush reaches his ears as he remains seated, clueless.

_“Umonyurand!”_  Neville attempts to discretely whisper to him, and Harry curses himself for not paying attention.

“Well, go on, Mr. Potter!” Flitwick encourages.

“Yeah Harry!  _Summon your wand!”_  Neville says to him, patting his shoulder, and  _oh,_  that’s what he was trying to say.

Harry stands, chair scraping the floor a bit too loudly.

After eyeing his wand, he looks around the classroom at anticipating eyes. Harry closes his own, forcing himself to focus. He internally searches for, and finds, the rippling waves of magic flowing through him. He directs one to his fingertips, feeling for the familiar buzzing in his palm, and now looking back at his wand, simply thinks,

_Accio._

His wand immediately soars into his outstretched hand.

Scattered applause and whispers from the 7th year Hufflepuffs and fellow Gryffindors fill the classroom, and Flitwick all but squeals. Later, when the students are individually practicing the charms, Harry feels a tap on his shoulder. Seamus and Dean are sitting at the desk behind Harry, Seamus looking particularly frustrated with the assignment.

“Mate, what’s this talk of a party tonight?” Dean asks, head cocked.

Harry sighs, the anticipation about tonight not having left him since Hermione first mentioned it. Chewing on a fingernail, he responds, “Um… Hermione thought it’d be nice for all of us to sort of, hang out.”

“Who’s ‘all of us’?” Seamus asks, giving up on summoning. After a successful first time, Harry assumes Seamus’ excitement clouded his magic.

“Well, her, Ron and I, you three, the Patils and Lavender, Malfoy’s crew, the Hufflepuff blokes-“

“Oi! Malfoy? Now I’m definitely coming!” Seamus exclaims. The boy always did enjoy having the front row seat. Dean shoves his shoulder.

“Mate, you alright with that?” he asks Harry.

Was Harry? Well, why shouldn’t he be? He’d been wary, yes, but also disproportionately curious. He wanted to see how the Slytherins truly were; always clinging to one another; vivacious Parkinson and mysterious Zabini. All unique and independent, yet seemingly still at Malfoy’s heels.

“Yeah, should be fun.” Harry says, then explains the time and place to the three.

“I’ll bring Luna, who’ll bring Ginny.” Neville says, hesitant.

“Right then, okay.” Harry responds quickly, before turning back to his desk, avoiding the gazes his friends shot to one another. Harry picks at his quill as Flitwick moves about the class, shrieking when Seamus’ wand shoots sparks from the tip without being touched. Only few seemed to successfully  _Accio_  their wand repeatedly, but Harry paid no mind to his standing out. He was too busy thinking about strawberry-smelling red hair, the girl with a bite as rough as her bark, with soft skin and hidden constellations on her back.

Harry and Ginny had mutually decided their relationship was, put plainly, no longer necessary. They were convenient lovers, needing a light in the dark times they were going through, and though beautiful they were, they both needed passion,  _fire._  One they both had, but couldn’t find in each other, for inexplicable reasons. Ginny had always been there, since the beginning of Harry’s new life, but more as a companion, a friend, and now that’s all they’d ever be. They were okay with it of course, it was the others who’d treated it delicately. Harry couldn’t help but hope that maybe tonight they’d see everything was okay between them.

Harry then had the strange feeling he had better things to be doing, and oddly enough, the habitual thought of Malfoy seemed to satisfy him.

  


•.*

  


Draco is using his leisure time sprawled across a leather love seat at the back of the library. His head rests in Pansy’s lap, the girl absentmindedly combing her fingers through his hair as she reads  _Witch Weekly._  September rain carelessly splashes onto the windows, creating a calm and cosy atmosphere, one of which Draco’s feelings do not match. His mind feels blurry and overworked, and his heart is beating way too fast for his lazy position. He felt he should go to see Madam Pomfrey, but-

_"Mental Healers from St. Mungo’s have joined Hogwarts’ staff. Anybody who requires assistance, or knows somebody that does, can find them to the east of the Hospital Wing."_

Draco sits up, shutting  _Spellman’s Syllabary._

“Alright, dear?” Pansy asks, unbothered.

“Yes, just have something to do.”

“Oh.” she chirps, closing her magazine and popping up. “Alright, lets go.”

“I’ll be fine by myself.”

Pansy flops back down onto the chair, seemingly fine with having nothing to do. Millicent comes and takes Draco’s spot, looking content as ever. “Okay.” Pansy says. “Just be back by dinner, I’ll need your help picking out something to wear to the party.”

Draco nods, and then ends up on the fourth floor at the entrance to the Mental Healer’s ward. Since the war, Draco found himself feeling sick, overwhelmed, and confused, but couldn’t place why. He’d grown tired of it. The metal door handle is cool as he pulls it, and Draco walks into a large oval room, with arched windows on every wall, rows of couches surrounded by curtains, and a desk right smack in the middle. Seated at it is a plump looking witch, very kindly eying Draco, as though she’d expected him. He raises his chin and hastily walks over.

“Alright, dear?” she asks, and  _must everybody know of this storm going on inside him?_

As though on cue, the rain against the windows hardens, the sky darkening the room as the clouds thicken. Draco clears his throat, “I-“

“Yes, okay. Please follow me.” The witch says, and without checking to see if he is, walks over to the furthest couch and closes the curtains behind them. Draco’s pulse quickens in suspicion as she draws her wand and casts a silencing charm. He discretely begins to reach for his own, before she sits on the chair next to the couch with an oof.

“Your aura, Mr. Malfoy… Do tell me, what’s wrong?” the witch calmly speaks.

“I don’t know.” Draco roughly responds.

“Ah.” the witch stands. “A Legilimens then.” she says, as though it's nothing, before telling him to wait there. Even if he wanted to leave, Draco is frozen on the spot for reasons he can’t explain. When the witch returns, she is accompanied by a small, shriveled looking lady with a pointed hat and too long of a dress. Her eyes widen as they fall on Draco.

“Ah-  _OH!”_  She exclaims, looking him up and down and circling him about.

“Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on? I haven’t even mentioned anything yet.” Draco asks, quite miffed.

The little lady looks up to him.  “Your aura dear, its very concerning. Might we take a look?” she draws her wand, waiting expectantly. 

“A look for  _what?”_  Draco spits.

“You’re clouded, darling boy. Let us open your mind to disperse the darkness and bring forth the answers you’ve been searching for.” She raises her wand, and before Draco can disagree, mutters  _“Legilimens.”_

Draco’s vision goes black as he feels himself fall backwards onto the couch, and then further, and further, until his back crashes against something hard. His chest is suddenly void of air as he gasps, eyes opening once more to see he’s still standing in the same spot.

“Very, very impressive.” the little witch says, conclusively. The plump one nods to her in agreement.

“Will somebody tell me  _what the bloody hell just happened?”_  Draco demands. The small one smiles as the other gasps.

“I am going to help you, Draco.” the little witch says. “In my attempt to explore your mind, we met your strong wall of Occlumency. It seems it’s been up for some time, and you must bring it down. You must open up and explore your deepest thoughts; your darkest fears; your wildest dreams. Your aura shows you’re constricting, holding in. You must release.”

“Oh I  _must,_  must I?” Draco bites, and the witch blinks slowly. “And why is that?”

“Well simply your health, Draco. You came here to be healed, haven’t you? You’ve built up walls of protection, incredibly impressive I must say, but dangerous. Let me help you.” she raises her wand, “Let the walls fall.”

Draco swallows and relaxes his shoulders before the witch whispers,  _“Legilimens.”_

Draco falls back onto the couch, and this time, his back hits the cushions.

_Guilt._

The first wave of emotion is guilt, and it floods Draco like a broken dam. His heart lurches and hides beneath his ribs. Since the moment his aunt’s heel hit the floor inside Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has felt guilt. He had even felt the disgusting presence of the emotion when he failed to do his set task- and even more, for feeling that way. He let his family down, his school down, his classmates down, and his headmaster  _down down down_  to the bottom of the astronomy tower. He’d felt guilty when he’d broken Potter’s nose, feeling once more the crunch of the bone under his boot. He’d felt guilty for shooting the  _Cruciatus_  curse at him, though he’d never thought he’d admit it. Guilt. He’s feeling it from the tips of his toes to the crease between his brow, transforming into

_Shame._

How could Granger invite him to a  _party?_  He didn’t deserve that, not after his years of prejudice and jinxes he’d sent her way. He didn’t even deserve to be alive, not after the war. With everyone that’d died, why hadn’t he been one of them? What had he done differently? And  _Potter_. He didn’t deserve to be rescued from a life in Azkaban, furthermore  _Fiendfyre_. Why did the people he was raised to hate have to constantly prove themselves to be better than him? Shame tickled up Draco’s cheeks and poured into his ears, crawling into his brain and festering into

_Confusion_.

The papers had labeled him  _The Boy Who Had No Choice._  No choice? Draco had many choices, his whole life he’d just happened to make the wrong ones. But what were the right ones? Who even is Draco Malfoy anymore? Everything he had known, everything he was raised to believe, crumbled and died with the war. What was left? Confusion, and it hit him like a tidal wave. And Potter, acting as though Draco was an old friend, catching each other’s eyes and speaking at trials. Nausea was filling his stomach and engulfing his heart, brewing into

_Anger_.

Seething, bubbling, festering, anger. The uncertainty, the doubting. It wasn’t Draco’s fault, it was his father’s. His father, who couldn’t raise a son properly. Who forced darkness, decay, and literal death on the boy, the death that would mark his arm forever. No! It was  _him_. The nefarious Dark Lord. Walking around in Draco’s home like he owned it, and Draco was irate because he actually did. He had taken Draco and branded him for life. His body, his mind, his soul, and it made him livid. He was Draco-sodding-Malfoy, nobody took control of him, his aunt made sure of that. But the Dark Lord did. And his friends as well. Pansy, how could she? How could she try to hand Potter over? Potter was  _Draco’s_ for Salazar’s sake, she had no right. And stupid Potter, the high and mighty  _Chosen One._  Swooping in to save Draco not once, but twice! Stupid Potter, walking around Hogwarts,  _smiling_. Being okay, being strong. The anger boiled in Draco’s heart and tipped over, falling, falling, falling, into

_Fear_.

Terror chilled Draco like an ice bath. The waves of emotion hitting stronger and stronger with each coming one. He felt goose pimples erupt up his arms and his shoulders rise. Fear of rejection as he holds his hand out to  _The Boy Who Lived._  The boy who could speak parseltongue, the boy who shot a  _Sectumsempra_  straight into Draco’s heart. He felt horrified as he relived the slicing of his chest, the cold harness of the bathroom floor, and saw the single scar that had remained. Then he heard the snake. The hiss echoing off the walls of the Manor, leaving Draco confused of its origin. The eye contact he had only once made with the Dark Lord, his red eyes piercing Draco’s, causing a burning in his brain. Then he’d been expected to speak, but one wrong word and  _Diffindo_ , his throat was slit. Crackling then filled his ears, and smoke, his nose. The piercing cry of Vincent falling into the fire crept up Draco’s back and tickled his soul.  _It’s about to be me,_  he had thought.  _I’m about to burn. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die._  Fear climbed up his throat and poured in his eyes, pooling into

_Sadness._

As though a dementor was kissing him. Bodies, piled over one another, lost in battle and lifeless. Every moment he had with Vincent, for nothing. His godfather, the late night lessons and comforting presence, diminished. His mother, wailing in the night at the thought of Draco having to murder his headmaster, at the thought of Draco himself, lying with glazed eyes and stopped breath. And his father, he was supposed to be his  _father_ , that’s all Draco had ever wanted- to impress him, learn from him, take care of him. And hiraeth. The Manor, his  _home_ , the one he’d known since he could remember, was no longer where he felt safe. It was as though it had burned down in a fire, and Draco had nowhere else to go. His school, with broken paths and missing portraits, memorials every few meters and empty spots at the tables. And of course, there then was Potter. Draco once again felt his heavy heart as years of teasing lead up to a lifeless body held by a half-giant. Draco was absolutely and irrevocably,  _sad_.

He then felt a tightness in his chest, and a pull forward. He knew he was seeing his future then- only he wasn’t. Darkness surrounded Draco, as though in a chasm of uncertainty. Where would he be in 5 years, 1, even tomorrow? With the looks he gets from other students, the threats he heard in Diagon Alley, the declination letters from abroad programs he’d received? Draco didn’t have a plan, Draco didn’t have a  _future_.

Just as fast as there was darkness, there then was a light. A dainty, twinkling, growing star. It moved closer to Draco, bringing heat along with it. Expanding, rising, until Draco saw they were images, hidden memories, deep within himself. He ran towards them, closer and closer until he slammed through what felt like a wall, and life exploded all around him.

Warm air blew gently up Draco’s jumper, flowing through his hair and reddening his cheeks. The Great Lake in June, Draco realized, and turned to see Vincent and Greg, along with himself, sitting on the lawn, laughing. Greg had chocolate on his cheeks and Vincent plucked grass from its roots, while Draco leaned against a tree, muttering nonsense about Potter and Granger and Weasley. The three boys guffawed and sputtered, and Draco felt

_Happiness_.

Draco then saw Hogwarts for the first time, the intimidating towers rising tall over his small self. He picked on Potter, ate decadent sweets his mother had sent him, and learned to levitate a feather. He saw his mother and father, greeting him at the station for winter hols. The crisp feel of his mother’s robes and the engulfing scent of his father’s cologne bringing him safety, contentment, and peace. Draco was older then, watching  _The Golden Trio_  from the back of class, with their mindless touching and giggles and whispers. Draco had learned from the effortless love that they shared. Then Draco saw Pansy, and Blaise, and Theo and Greg and Millicent. Spread over the common room, taking the piss and kissing cheeks. Throwing food into each other’s mouths and yelling their house tunes. Dancing and joking and breathing and living and

_Love_.

And he knew then, that everything was going to be just fine, just as long as he had it.

Draco didn’t know if what he saw next was one of his deepest thoughts, his darkest fears, or his wildest dreams, but whilst feeling the heaviness of love, he then saw Potter. Hair messy and damp against his forehead after flying, Potter. Choking on juice after a joke from Weasley, Potter. Scowling at Draco with sarcasm on his tongue, Potter. Accidentally spilling his potion ingredients into his cauldron, Potter. Tying his  _silly muggle shoes,_  Potter. Warmth extended over Draco as Potter pulled at his heartstrings, etched into his mind and settled into his brain. It was completely unexpected yet somehow unsurprising as though he’d felt it all along and the curtains were finally opening. Draco was surrounded by the suffocating and overwhelming embrace of love, of  _Potter._

Draco’s lungs are void of air once more, and he gasps for breath. His vision is blurry, his cheeks and front of his jumper soaked. He shudders through his breathing and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve.

_“Obliviate.”_  he hears someone say, and then flinches, before seeing the first witch with her wand pointed at the second. She then speaks to the smaller healer, “I just erased your memory of Draco Malfoy’s Legilimens, you’ve healed him successfully.” Draco can’t make sense of any of the words, so he shuts his eyes and counts his breathing in hopes to calm down. Something is then pressed to his lips and poured down his throat and he coughs, but swallows the bitter taste. It seems a veil of relaxation is instantly thrown over him. His breathing slows, his crying ceases, and he regains his bearings. The room looks different- Draco sees the storm outside has stopped. It’s now dark out, and he realizes it must have been hours since the healing process began. Both witches are looking at him.

“I haven’t felt that much in a long time.” the small witch says with a smile. “Well?”

Draco’s throat feels scratchy, but he manages a “thank you”.

“Here,” the larger one says, passing him a vial. “Draught of Peace”.

The small witch leads Draco to the door, before she says, “Occlumency is a powerful and useful skill, but one must learn not only how to put the walls up, but bring them down.”

Draco nods, head still slightly spinning, and watches her walk away. Casting a quick  _Tempus,_ Draco sees it’s now 7:30. Excitement bubbles in his chest, and he takes time to  _feel_  it, before heading towards the dorms to get ready. On the way, Draco can’t help but dwell on the fact that Potter was in every single one of his feelings.

  


*.•

  


Harry was having a quite difficult time enjoying his chess game with Ron. For one, Harry was hungry, his stomach growling every few minutes due to pleasing Hermione at dinner, with her constant reminding of “Don’t overeat, the room will have plenty of food!” Two, this was chess with  _Ron_  and well, after 7 years of the game with him, Harry had grown bored of getting demolished by the same strategies (Harry didn’t really care to try). And finally, if Harry listened closely, he could hear the ticking of the common room grandfather clock, inching closer and closer to 8 (the last time he’d checked, it was 7:32). Harry’d calmed his nerves, deciding to listen to Hermione, because if his best friend said tonight would be fun,  _tonight would be fun._

“Let’s stop here,” Harry hears Ron say, and he thanks Merlin because he was getting restless. “You guys ready?” Ron then asks Seamus and Dean, who were wrestling on the couch nearby.

“Yeah, where’s Nev?” Dean asks.

“Getting Gin and Luna.” Ron responds, shaking an angry neglected piece off his finger. A shower and attempt at  _Sleekeazy’s_  later, Harry finds himself stuck in front of his trunk, deciding between a flannel or Weasley jumper.

_“We must wear each other’s house colors! It’ll be festive!”_  Hermione had said.

Harry settles on the Slytherin green flannel, and throws it on over a black shirt with a mischievous smirk. Arriving on the landing of the seventh floor, Harry catches sight of his friends near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Luna spins to greet him.

“Hello Harry!” she sings, “wonderful night for a party, don’t you think? Oh you look lovely.”

Harry blushes. “Thanks Luna, how are you?”

“Perfectly excited.” she says, and kisses his cheek before going back to hook her arm with Ginny’s. Ginny waves sheepishly to Harry, who waves back with a warm smile. Harry then joins Ron and Hermione, who were standing at the large oak doors to the room, reading a note posted on the front.

_Have fun practicing inter-house cooperation._

_-MM_

“It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” Ron asks, passing the note to Harry.

Hermione’s hair bounces as she shrugs. “I think it’s rather nice, seems she trusts us.” Harry, not knowing what to do with it, shoves the note in his back pocket. Suddenly, the doors behind his friends open with a loud creek, exposing a hallway. Hermione squeals in excitement, and Harry and his friends follow her down the torch lit corridor.

“It’s exactly as I requested!” She yells.

The hallway ends in an arch, exposing a grand sitting room. No longer vast and filled with screaming fire and forgotten objects, the Room of Requirement was now cosy, comfortable, and welcoming. The room has dark walls and floors, covered with tapestries and paintings and overlapping rugs of different shapes and sizes. The high ceiling hangs round fairy lights of varying colors, twinkling and emitting a golden glow. Tall mirrors encompass one wall, reflecting the hanging paintings on others that show Hogwarts, along with its houses and motto. Throughout the room were different culminations of couches, arm chairs, love seats, and ottomans. On one end was a large dining table, filled with assorted puddings and tarts. Harry also noted a record player, muggle and wizard board games, assorted plants, a clock, a strange contraption emitting bubbles, and oddly enough, the Sorting Hat. Dean, Seamus, and Neville plopped onto a couch, and immediately fell back into conversation whilst starting a game of  _Exploding Snap._  Ginny and Luna fell into a love seat next to the boys, lost in their own world. Ron shot straight for the food table, and Harry, deciding to settle his stomach, followed right after him.

“Oh heavens.” Ron says, looking at the array of food.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees, licking his lips.

A sticky bun and ridiculously delicious treacle tart later, Harry finds himself in the corner, surrounding the Sorting Hat with his two best friends.

“I wonder what it’s here for.” Ron ponders through his pie.

“Most likely surveillance of some sort.” Hermione replies, unfazed by Ron’s talking while eating. “Guess she doesn’t completely trust us, understandable…”

Though his friends dismissed it, Harry couldn’t help but acknowledge the strangeness of the Sorting Hat’s presence, and thinks it was more than just a watching eye. Whilst looking at it intently, he jumped when it spoke,

_“You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart”_

A sudden commotion coming from the hallway drags the trio’s thoughts away from the hat. Standing at the entrance to the room were Macmillan and Smith.

“We can’t get in!” Smith exclaims, frustrated. Harry sees a ripple in the air between them, such as a barrier.

Hermione smirks and crosses her arms. “You must have something forbidden on you then.”

Smith pauses, red coloring his ears. “Perhaps some Odgens…” he pulls a bottle from his hoodie and sets it on the ground by his feet. He attempts to walk through the doors once again, but the barrier bounces him off and sends him stumbling backwards.

“It seems _you’re_  forbidden now, shame.” Hermione says, and walks away tucked under a very content Ron’s arm. Harry smiles awkwardly to the boys, and turns to follow them.

“What about me?” Macmillan calls after him.

Harry eyes the boy and his all black attire. “Well, you’re a Hufflepuff, and in your own house colors. ‘Mione said to wear the other’s, so…” he shrugs. Macmillan’s shoulders droop, and the pair of boys turn and head for the stairs. 

At 8:30, Harry is sunken comfortably into a beanbag next to his friends. Padma and Parvati have arrived since, stating Lavender, Greengrass, Bones, Fletchley, and Abbot refused to come due to “indifferences”. Hermione had scoffed, and then shrunk, looking disappointed her plan to unite the Eighth Years couldn’t convince everybody. Harry now watches his friends in admiration, something he finds himself doing quite often. Luna is humming while twirling about the room. Ron has his arm around Hermione, whispering into her ear as she chews shyly on her lip. Neville is blushing as Seamus and Dean guffaw from next to him, causing Harry to smile too. He then hears footsteps coming from the hallway, and looks up.

His chest constricts.

Standing tall in the archway was Malfoy, looking around smugly in a Gryffindor red jumper. Over it was a well fitted blazer that matches his black trousers and dragon hide boots. Harry’s eyes then drift to Malfoy’s friends, fanned out behind him. Parkinson’s outfit matches Malfoy’s, only Harry notices it doesn’t  _look_  quite the same. He blushes at the sight of Zabini’s Hufflepuff Quidditch pullover, curious on how he acquired one. Letting his eyes explore once more, Harry’s gaze flicks back to Malfoy, and he rubs his now clammy palms on his thighs. The movement catches Malfoy’s attention, and before Harry can do anything about it, he’s walking over. Harry’s friend’s conversations die suddenly.

After a too-long silence, Malfoy says, “I expect we weren’t invited to simply be stared at.”

Harry hears Ron scoff somewhere behind him.

Hermione cuts in, “We’re  _simply_  surprised you showed up after long.”

“Some actually put effort into their appearance.” Parkinson hisses.

“Put some effort into being on time.” Hermione snaps.

_“Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends”_

Everyone is quiet as they look over to the corner of the Sorting Hat.

“What the bloody hell is that doing here?” Bulstrode asks.

“We believe it’s McGonagall’s way of watching us.” Ginny says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh. In that case,” Bulstrode grabs a blanket and throws it over the hat.  _“Sorted.”_

The next few minutes consisted of several things happening. Once the uneasy feeling of the Slytherin’s arrival dissipated, the room came alive. Nott increased the volume of the music, earning noises of complaint from Padma, who’d brought a book. Hermione conjured one of her famous flames, large enough to warm the temperature of the room, much to everyone’s approval. Malfoy levitated furniture into a circle, which his group of friends were now sprawled across, lounging over one another and talking amongst themselves. Ginny moved from her spot next to Luna onto Dean’s lap, extracting a look of utter surprise from everyone before confirming they were indeed back together. Zabini had then whooped, and Parkinson yelled  _“Dramaaaaa!”_  And Harry, well Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. After ignoring the questioning gazes from the Slytherins, he’d gotten up from his beanbag, fiddled with the hems of his flannel, joked with Neville, picked at a fig tart, and sat back down. Something about Malfoy’s reserved presence was troublesome. Malfoy wasn’t supposed to ignore Harry, or act like he wasn’t even there! In the past he had sought Harry out, picked on him, laughed at him, so why did he think it was okay to suddenly stop?

As though Harry’s thoughts were being broadcasted, Malfoy then looked over to Harry, catching him starting, and mouthed,  _What?_

Harry immediately averted his gaze, looking around to see if anyone had seen. Hermione and Ron were choosing a game, Neville was now chatting with Luna, and Seamus was chatting up Parvati, no one had noticed. Harry looked back over to see the blond boy smirking, still facing his way.

_Nothing,_  Harry mouthed back, and wasn’t this strange? Talking across the room to your past enemy? Malfoy looked as though he was going to say something else, before Hermione interrupted.

“Okay, we’ve  _finally_  agreed on a game,” she shoots a look to Ron, “can everybody please move into a circle on the floor please?”

“On the floor? You’re barking, Granger!” Parkinson calls. Hermione grabs her wand, causing Malfoy and his friends to flinch, before summoning pillows and arranging them into a circle on the rugs. It took a long time for everyone to finally sit down. Harry unintentionally sat directly across from Malfoy, who’d insisted sitting on  _“the red pillow, Pansy, no that one!”_ and sat clutching his hands around his raised knees.

“So!” Hermione smiles, almost mischievously. “The first game,” she toys with a small box in her lap, “Is  _Weasleys’ Sip, Sniff, and Spill.”_  Luna practically shrieks with excitement, and around the circle grew faces of anticipation, worry, and curiosity.

“How exactly do we play this game, Granger?” Malfoy inquires, eyebrow raised.

After a shocked expression, likely due to not being snarked at by Malfoy for once, Hermione opens the box to reveal a series of miniature, unlabeled potion vials encased in velvet.

“These potions are not brewed with such intensity, so they wear off quite fast. How you play the game is like so. You take a random potion, nothing dangerous, obviously. Then you sniff,” she then picks out a pink potion from the vials, labeled with a heart, “this. Amortentia. And you try to ‘spill’ what you smell to the group, through the ridiculous affects of the potion.” She carefully sets the pink vial back into the box. “Rules are you must state all three things you smell, as long as the potion allows you to do so. You mustn’t lie about what you smell, and you cannot fake taking a potion.” She grabs the list of included elixirs and tucks it safely under her pillow.

Meanwhile, Harry’s insides drop. The thought of taking a random potion, possibly embarrassing himself, and then confessing what he was the most attracted to, not only to his friends, but to  _Malfoy_ , was horrifying.

“Greg would’ve loved this.” Nott drawls.

“What happened?” Dean, oddly enough, asks.

“Refused to wear another house color,  the git.” Malfoy says.

Harry was very confused to be watching a casual interaction between Slytherins and Gryffindors, but Hermione was all too pleased. Out of nowhere, Parkinson snatches the box from her hands. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” She ignores the noises of hesitation from the group. “Sounds bril! Me first.” she says, clicking her nails against the array of vials.

“Best of luck, Pansy.” Luna says, sincerely.

Parkinson winks to the girl before tipping a vial back. “Mmm, lemon!” she says, licking her lips. Seconds pass, before she adds, “Well, I don’t feel anything, how disappointing! These potions are obviously duds, where did you get them, Granger? A magic store in muggle-town? Absolutely ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the cheap velvet in this box, Dray, do you see this? I can’t believe it. I’m so incredibly- oh.”

Malfoy stares at the girl with an amused look.

“Babbling Beverage” Hermione concludes, reading the list of potions. Everyone laughs, and some clap as Pansy hides her face behind her hands. Malfoy runs a hand down her back comfortingly, and Harry watches the movement, thinking maybe the game wouldn’t be so bad after all, since everyone’s taking it as a joke.

Malfoy reaches into the box and extracts the small vial of Amortentia. He pops the cork, the sound echoing in Harry’s ears, and out emits a translucent mist. He holds it close to Parkinson’s face, the circle is silent.

“Oh! I know this smell- my perfume! I got it last hols, it’s to die for.”

“You’re attracted to your own perfume?” Malfoy asks.

“Shush! It’s lemongrass-  _ugh._  Oh! It’s changing, spearmint toothpaste! And… new parchment? How interesting, I never would have guessed that- Oh! I’m smelling my perfume again!”

“PANS! Shut your trap!” Bulstrode barks, causing everyone to flinch.

Parkinson purses her lips before shooting a look of death to a snickering Seamus. Harry looks around the circle, eyes landing on Hermione who was twiddling her thumbs, face hiding behind her hair. Harry elbows Ron, and nods to Hermione. His friends shoots him a confused look, before tapping the girl, who appears to be blushing.

“It’s nothing.” Harry hears her whisper.

“Well, this should be fun!” Dean says, bringing Harry’s attention back to the game.

Bulstrode grabs the box from the left of Parkinson. “My turn.” She smirks and chooses a vial, before downing the liquid that turns out to be a Muffling Draught, according to a now giggling Hermione. Bulstrode looks horrified as she clamps her hand over her mouth, and Harry can’t help but smile along with his friends.

Parkinson explodes in laugher. “Serves you right! Millie, you should see your face, absolutely traumatic!” she taunts, before cutting herself off.

“So in cases like these, not confessing your ’sniff’ is allowed.” Hermione explains.

Harry feels an elbow in his left side, and turns to face Ron. “Mate, you okay? You’re quiet tonight.”

Harry nods and smiles, the warmth of his best friend’s concern engulfing him. “Fine, thanks.”

The circle suddenly  _oooooh_ ’s and Harry sees Zabini holding the box. He sighs before picking a bottle and sipping it. Almost instantly, a smile spreads across his face, flashing his straight teeth.

“I’ll be honest, this has made me really bloody happy.” he confesses. A quick laugh escapes Malfoy’s mouth as he leans over Parkinson and Bulstrode to whisper in Zabini’s ear. The sight causes something unpleasant to twinge in Harry’s chest, and Malfoy then leans back into his spot, still smirking. His eyes meet Harry’s again, as though it’s their job.  _What?_  he mouths.

“Happy? Ah! Elixir to Induce Euphoria!” Hermione says.

Harry’s friends mumble about the irony of Zabini being pleased with something for once, but Harry’s attention is still on Malfoy.

_Nothing,_  he mouths once more, with an attempt at subtlety.

Malfoy discretely nods, and then pinches his jumper and raises his brows, as in,  _Noticed this?_

Harry runs his hands through his hair in attempt to hide flicking Malfoy two fingers.

Malfoy covers his mouth with his hand. Harry’d made Malfoy  _laugh._  Malfoy, as in just below nemesis, but we may have saved each other’s lives once or twice, Malfoy.

Harry almost pinches himself.

“You’ll only see it just this once, everybody take in my euphoric self!” Zabini exclaims, clapping his hands together in delight and pointing to Nott for a reason Harry missed. After sniffing Amortentia, he chuckles to himself, and says, “Chestnuts, leather, and...  _Scourgify.”_

_“Scourgify?”_  Bulstrode questions.

“It smells pleasant.” Zabini simply says, shrugging.

Ginny grabs the box from Zabini’s left, which Harry’s sure he would have happily given anyway. The potions were going clockwise around the circle, which meant that Harry was only  _three_  turns away. Ginny’s turn ended with a very lost look on her face, the explanation being the Confusing Concoction. When a chuckle escaped the previously muted Bulstrode, everyone concluded the potions only lasted around five minutes.

“What is everyone laughing at? Somebody please explain!” Ginny says, after confessing she smelled home, morning dew, and beeswax. Parvati then snatches the vials from her confused hands, and carefully chooses one, her sister crawling across the circle to share the potion with her. They both immediately face Hermione with looks of great admiration.

_“Neenee-“_

_“Mione-“_  both girls say at the same time, then turn to face one another repulsively.

“Why are you calling my best friend that?”

_“Your_  best friend? She’s MINE!”

“Uh oh...” Hermione says. “Gregory’s Unctuous Unction... makes you believe-“

“The giver is your best friend.” Malfoy finishes, and leans back on his hands, as though waiting for a show to start.

“YES!” Seamus exclaims.

“You’re not even in her house! You’re nothing alike!” Parvati yells.

“Oh dear...” Hermione cries, hiding behind her hands.

Padma’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. “We study together all the time, we’re in the same literature club! What do you two have, a whole bunch of knightly Gryffindor blood rituals?”

“Okay now wait just a minute-“

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

And “Hold up-“ quickly escape three Gryffindor’s mouths as the Slytherins burst out laughing. Harry does too, and chuckles with Ron while watching the interaction.

“That’s it!” Parvati yells, standing up along with her sister. She draws her wand, but Padma’s too quick.

_“Immobulus!”_ Padma yells, and a whisp in the air strikes her sister in the stomach. Parvati freezes in place, her brown eyes blown wide at her twin. The circle gasps as though at the theatre, shuffling out of the way.

_“Finite!”_  Hermione speaks, wand pointed at the now moving Parvati, who then blinks rapidly and gasps for air.

“You... you... ugh!  _Flipendo!”_  Parvati bellows, and a whistle of a noise from her wand sends Padma flying backwards and she lands heavily on the couch. The room tenses as she catches her breath, and the two girls stare incredulously at each other.

And then they laugh.

Awkwardly at first, and then the room joins in. Parvati walks up to her sister and extends her hand, helping her up and back to her cushion. Harry is blown away by the brief duel, and a part of him wants for more.

“What a marvelous game.” Zabini says, causing Seamus to nod in agreement. Harry glances over to Malfoy, who seems uninterested, looking at his nails.

“Nice one.” Parvati says to her sister, sitting back in her spot. “Took it like a-“

_“You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil”_

Several jump at the sound of the Sorting Hat, and Harry eyes the blanket lying discarded on the floor next to it. The strange feeling accompanies Harry once more, as questions from his friends bounce across the room.

“Let’s just carry on.” Hermione says. “Neville...”

Neville says a small “thanks” as he’s handed the box. He clicks his tongue and taps his index on the side before making his choice. The next five minutes are spent by the circle aiming to convince Neville his turn was over, that he  _had_  taken the potion, and that they were in the Room of Requirement, due to his Forgetfulness Draught. Every time the boy was reminded of something, his cheeks would grow a shade pinker, and the room’s laughs an octave louder.

“I smell... radishes, the greenhouses, earl grey tea, and radishes.”

Harry bursts out laughing, and tries to hide how happy he is about his turn being postponed. Ron reaches over Harry to grab the box from Neville. “Mate, look,” he says to his confused friend, “ _this_  is your empty vial! You went! We know you like Luna’s bloody earrings!”

“Flattering!” Luna says dreamily.

In attempt to shush Neville’s complaints, Ron takes a bottle and downs it. Nothing happens.

“Hmmm...” Hermione mumbles, scratching her chin as she reads the list of included potions.

“Let me see that.” Malfoy says, avoiding Hermione’s attempt to snatch it back. “I won’t spoil it for anyone, Granger.” He sits back in his spot, and Harry watches his brows knit together as he reads the parchment. It’s strange, seeing Malfoy do something other than sneer, and Harry can’t help but notice that Malfoy is not that... _never mind,_  Harry thinks, and shakes his head to clear the thought.

“Disgusting.” Malfoy concludes, flicking the paper back to Hermione. The circle joins in a puzzled look. “He’s gotten Twilight Moonbeams.”

_“Oh.”_  Hermione says to herself. “I guess that makes sense... brilliant.”

“What’s Twilight Moonbeams?” Harry asks, still lost.

“Er... it causes the drinker to become infatuated with the giver... and since they’re my potions, and Ron drank it, well, it had no obvious affect...” Hermione explains, picking at the rug.

“Are you trying to say I’m already bloody infatuated with you?” Ron says, popping open the pink vial.

“It appears so! You haven’t had any reaction to the potion Ronald, it must mean it’s already in affect!”

“Well I smell sea water, chocolate, and you. So I’d say you’re right, as usual.” Ron says, before closing the Amortentia and pulling her in for a kiss. Harry can’t help but notice that Hermione had seemed to make Ron adore kissing, unlike Lavender. Dean whoops and Zabini actually looks interested once again, the kiss bringing a warmth to the room that Hermione’s flame couldn’t, filling it with the life it desperately needed.

“Ugh.” Ginny laughs.

“Tell me about it.” Malfoy drawls, then looks mortified he agreed with her.

“Okay enough, enough, making me sick.” Parkinson says, visibly annoyed.

“They’re so ca- _ute!”_  Padma adds, hands mushing her cheeks. Harry agrees, though he’d never say. Ron and Hermione finally break apart, looking into each other eyes before the box is dropped in her lap.

“Okay, okay.” she says, and Harry along with the circle cheer, as it’s finally her turn. It seems everyone had forgotten about Harry’s, which of course he doesn’t mind. Hermione then drops her empty vial and breaks into a fit of giggles, hunching over and clutching her stomach. “Nooo-o!” She chokes out, “I’ve gotten- gotten the L-L-Laugh Inducing Potion!”

Everyone laughs along with her, Harry even notices Malfoy holding one back. It seems Harry notices quite a lot about Malfoy, though.

“How charming!” Luna says, giggling herself. “A wonderful laugh you have, Hermione. I believe they’re a secret to a long life. That, and avoiding Japanese water demons.”

Harry chokes on his next breath and Hermione sniggers into her hand clamped tightly over her mouth.  _“Please!_  D-Don’t say anything else, Luna!” she pleads. “I smell,” she takes a deep breath, “f-fresh cut grass, spearmint toothpaste, and Ron’s- Ronald’s hair! HA!”

“Grass and toothpaste?” Ron asks, furrowing his brow and slowly removing his arm from around his hysterical girlfriend. Harry freezes.

“Merely a coincidence, Weasley.” Malfoy snaps. Pansy leans backwards against the ottoman behind her cushion, her hair hiding her face. “Leave it alone.”

“Are you mad?” Ron turns to Parkinson. “Care to explain?”

The girl sits up again, straightening her blazer. “Not to you.”

“R-Ron,” Hermione says. “We just enjoy the same things.” Her laughing ceases, and she tucks under his arm again, whispering something in his ear that makes him relax.

Luna takes the box. She uses “Catch a Niffler by the Toe” to choose a vial, and three minutes later, is found taking a “house elf nap” on Padma’s lap due to her potion. The girl braids Luna’s icy long hair, and Hermione continues laughing even though her potion’d worn off. Seamus’ turn was over soon after it started, but the long affects of his flatulence had everyone plugging their nose until Ginny cast a scent charm. His Amortentia smelled of absolutely anything else.

“I’m thinking of a number from one to ten.” Harry says, as the group takes a small break.

“Two.” Dean smiles, confident from having guessed right the past three times.

“He’s got it!” Harry yells, and high fives his friend.

“Felix Felicis...” Bulstrode begins through her pumpkin juice, “remind me to get some for my N.E.W.T.s, yeah?”

Seamus tosses a grape and Dean catches it in his mouth. “Hey Gin, wanna show me how far my luck will take me?” Dean flirts.

“Oi! That’s my sister you’re talking to!” Ron yells. Ginny comes over to the group and wraps her arm around Dean’s waist, cheeks red.

“Could still kick your arse on the pitch, even with the help of Felix.” she teases.

“Dean? On a broom? HA!” Seamus laughs.

“Dean, what did you smell?” Hermione asks.

“Oh right! I smelt pine trees, chopped wood, and beeswax, of course.” He says, kissing Ginny’s forehead. Harry’s heart warms for his two friends.

“Probably from the ridiculous amount of snogging you get up to.” Malfoy points out from behind the group, sitting on an arm chair. Harry’s heart speeds up as he takes in his effortless appearance; ankle resting on his knee; glass of water in hand; mastered sneer on his face.

“Jealous you’ve got no one to snog, Malfoy?” Ginny taunts. Harry can’t help but wonder too. Malfoy’s eyes ever-so quickly flick to Harry, then back to the girl. Parkinson appears from nowhere.

“We Slytherins have never been one to spill a kisssss.” she says, getting too close to Ginny’s face and hissing the “s”. She walks back to Malfoy and leans on the chair.

“Let’s finish the game.” Hermione insists.

For the first time that night, Harry wonders what he’d smell.

Nott’s turn is quite uninteresting, with the potion causing his hair to stand on end and him claiming he smelled nothing from Amortentia.

“Alright Draco darling, your turn at last.” Parkinson says, mischievously.

“No, it isn’t. Potter hasn’t gone.” Malfoy responds, causing Harry to freeze.

_Shit shit shit shit shit._

“Oh my- Harry! Why didn’t you say anything?” Hermione gasps.

“Yeah, thought you were safe, Potter?” Malfoy says, walking the box over to Harry and dropping it on the floor in front of him. Harry’s stuck for more reasons than one, the most important being that Malfoy was talking to him. Why this caused electricity up his arms, he didn’t know, nor did he have time to ponder.  _It was his turn_. He gathers some of his bravery and flips open the box lid as the circle watches him anxiously. He grabs a potion, says  _screw it,_ and downs it. All of a sudden he has the urge to bite his nails, and it picks and picks at his mind until he does so. Hermione cringes and tucks the list of potions under her cushion, and worry grows in Harry’s chest as he realizes that she knows the one he got.

“Which one is it, Hermione?” he says, a bit too loudly. His cheeks warm as several people flinch backwards. “Sorry,” he adds.

“It seems it’s Hate Potion,” she pauses, “it reveals one’s worst traits and habits.”

Harry stops biting his nails and rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry.” He doesn’t dare look across the circle.

“Mate-“ Ron begins.

“It’s fine!” Harry says. Wonderful, he’s exposed: the apologetic, impulsive, nail biter. Harry pulls his ear as his heart speeds up.

“Your worst traits are that you get nervous and apologize too much? You’ve got to be  _joking.”_ Bulstrode complains.

“Sorry-“ Harry begins.

“He also talks in his sleep.” Seamus adds with a wink.

“Constantly puts his jumpers on backwards.” Dean smiles.

“Doesn’t make his bed,” Neville adds, “can’t think and drink juice at the same time, his marks aren’t the best, he’s got two left feet, chicken scratch writing-“

“Was a bloody horcrux.” Ron jokes, and everybody laughs. Relief floods Harry as he feels the urge start to die down. Merlin, he loved his friends.

“What do you smell mate?” Ron asks from the left of Harry. He uncorks the bottle.

“Er... the Quidditch Pitch...” the mist turns black, “fire...” then red, “and-“

_Oh bugger fuck shit arsing fucking fuck._

Harry smells the spice cologne. 

“Vanilla.” he mumbles.

“Interesting.” Hermione says, satisfied.

“What was that?” Malfoy asks from across the circle. Harry looks up, and meets his grey eyes as he once again says, “Vanilla.” Something soft flashes across Malfoy’s face, before it hardens once more, and in that moment, starting at each other from across the circle, it clicks.

Harry was attracted to Malfoy.

The intriguing and familiar thought of him. How he’d make Harry’s palms sweat, or his chest constrict. His sweet and woodsy cologne, that drew Harry in. And blimey, earlier Harry’s head was telling him Malfoy was  _not that bad looking_ , but staring at him now, Harry sees he’s simply and rather _un-simply handsome_ , in an irritating sort of way. Harry blinks slowly, taking it in, and it hits him like a punch in the chest, yeah, he’s attracted to Malfoy. His perfected sneer, his biting sarcasm, the way he dresses, his grip on things, his pale skin dotted with marks, his feathery hair, the quite unfair two inches he had on Harry, the way he starts that much needed fire in Harry’s heart-

Someone flicks him on the cheek.

“OW!” Harry says, rubbing his face.

Ron smirks at him. “You zoned out mate,” Harry looks around the circle to see everyone in their own conversations, and then across it to Malfoy, who was whispering to Parkinson. “You alright?”

“Yeah. My cheek isn’t, though.” Harry complains, before grabbing the box and bravely walking it over to Malfoy. The circle is quiet as he holds it out, and Malfoy hesitates before grabbing it. As Harry drops back in his spot, Malfoy uncorks a vial and tips it back. Hermione tucks the paper under her cushion with a knowing look. 

“How do you feel, Draco?” Parkinson asks.

“Like I need some Calming Draught.” Malfoy replies simply. Harry’s curiosity peaks.

“Why?” Parkinson prods.

“Because I just took a random potion, Pansy.” Malfoy bites back. “And because of the way Potter is starting at me.” A confused look grows on the circle’s faces as they turn to find a blushing Harry, who doesn’t know what to do but shrug.

“That was quite honest...” Bulstrode drawls.

“And lastly... Truth Serum.” Hermione gulps. A chill goes through the room as everyone takes in the seriousness of the statement, and a bubble grows in Harry’s chest.

_“Oooooh!”_  Parkinson says. “This should be very interesting.”

A expression of betrayal covers Malfoy’s stunned face as he looks at her.

“I don’t know if-“ Hermione begins.

“Shush, Granger! Draco honey, how do you like my outfit?” Parkinson asks, eyelashes fluttering against her bangs.

“You can’t pull it off.” Malfoy responds, unbothered, and Harry accidentally laughs in agreement, earning a look of utter  _Crucio_  from Parkinson. Ron shoves Harry’s shoulder.

“Don’t, Pansy.” Nott says, making her wilt. “Nobody ask him anything.”

“Well we must finish the game,” Zabini reminds, “what do you smell, mate?” He asks, leaning over and holding the mist up.

Malfoy cringes, before stating through gritted teeth, “the Quidditch Pitch...” he shuts his eyes, “fire...” and opens them again to look at Harry, whilst biting his lip angrily. “And apples.”

The circle goes silent as people process what was said, and Harry’s heart stops. Ignoring the similarity of the first two and focusing on the last, Harry wonders, did Malfoy smell apples because he was always seen crunching the fruit, or because Harry’s favorite shampoo for years was that of the scent?

“What the  _bloody hell is going on?”_  Ron curses.

Malfoy angrily pushes himself up and marches towards the hallway. Everyone looks around at one another as the hat speaks,

_“Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind”_

Parkinson and Nott get up to find their friend, but he’s quickly back from the hallway, panting through rising shoulders,

“The door is gone.”

  


•.*

  


Around Draco, the circle reacts all at once.

“What do you mean the door is gone?”

“Gone?”

“Draco, are you joking?”

The room buzzes around him, and people push past their friends to go check, but Draco stands stuck in a daze. At the moment, he is absolutely sure of three things.

One, he is trapped inside of the Room of Requirement.

Two, he is absolutely attracted to the mess of a boy that is Harry Potter.

And three, Harry Potter was attracted to him right back.

Something pulls on his sleeve, and Draco turns to see Pansy sitting on the couch, looking up through her lashes. Around him people are running about the room, asking frantic questions and searching for a way out.

“Sit.” Pansy insists, causing Draco to fume. Since when was he given orders like some crup?

“Sit,” she repeats, “composure.”

Draco fumbles in his pocket, and pulls out the vial of Calming Draught. He unstops it and taps two drops onto his tongue. A veil of relaxation encompasses him once more, before he sits down amongst his friends, who begin to ask him for the next step.

“We leave it to our saviors.” Draco snorts, before rubbing his temples with his fingers. All these potions were getting to him.

“Relax while they do the work?” Blaise questions, swinging his arm around the cushion Draco was leaning on.

“Work smart, not hard. We aren’t ‘Puffs.” Millicent taps her forehead.

Draco chuckles internally, and wonders why he hadn’t made Millicent his closest. Pansy pulls Draco’s hand into her lap and runs her nails over the back of it. A chill of calm runs through him again, and Ah, Draco thinks.  _This is why I chose her._

“Did you see it disappear, or was it already gone?” she asks.

“Gone.” Draco simply says, and settles the slightest bit into the cushions. Millicent, who was resting her legs over Blaise’s lap, kicks Draco’s thigh.

“Don’t think we forgot about your little confession, Dray.”

Heat rises under Draco’s jumper, which of course he now regrets wearing. His mind works fast, before he says, “Remember, I’m a practiced Occlumens,” Pansy mocks him obnoxiously, earning a scowl before he continues, “Truth Serum is nothing, I’m just pulling Potter’s strings.” he lies, through a smile. Once the walls fell earlier, Draco had avoided even the thought of putting them back up. He was  _feeling_  for what felt like the first time, and was soaking it all in. In addition, the Truth Serum had taken him off guard, causing him to answer honestly anyway.

The Quidditch Pitch, which of course, was expected. It just so happened he had spent a considerable amount of time on it with Potter, but the fact that they’d both smelled it, well... and the fire. The fire in his heart Draco had craved? Or the fire they’d smelled during their most intimate moment? All the questions were answered when the mist turned green, and Draco smelled nothing but the sweet, engulfing scent of Potter’s stupid hair.

“Yeah, okay.” Blaise chuckles, shaking the couch. Pansy knowingly squeezes his hand, and they all turn to watch the room, Draco’s eyes trailing to the mess of hair talking hastily with Granger and Weasley. The rest of the Gryffindors were looking around the room, under rugs and behind mirrors, running their fingers along the walls in search for the door like the righteous bunch they were. Draco’s eyes drag back to Potter, standing across the room in his damn-ugly shirt that fits his shoulders all too well. Only Potter has stopped talking to his friends, and was now walking over with them, calling everyone to the center of the room. Draco sits up a little bit straighter. 

“Um...” Potter begins. “We don’t know what’s going on, with the door...” he was always great with words, wasn’t he? “We think the Sorting Hat has something to do with it.”

“You think?” Draco snaps, because he  _must_  keep up his image. “How do we know this wasn’t your doing?”

Potter glances to Draco with a confused expression before his eyes flick to Blaise’s arm around him and his hand in Pansy’s lap. A frustrated look appears on his face as he answers “It wasn’t,” through gritted teeth. “Why would we want this?”

“We’re all trapped here, not just you.” Granger adds. “Let’s try and think this through.”

Pansy scoffs and squeezes Draco’s hand. “Think? Sure Weasley can handle it?”

“Watch it, snake.” Weasley spits. Draco stands immediately and strides up to him. Potter steps in, but Draco ignores his presence as he takes in the unpleasant look of anger across Weasley’s speckled face. “Oi, protecting your girlfriend, Malfoy?”

Millicent and Blaise cough out loud laughs, and Draco winces. Potter takes the most minuscule inhale, but before Draco can say anything, Granger steps in. “Oh stop it! We need to be working together!”

Draco’s gaze flicks to her.  _“Us? Work together?_  You’re supposed to be the smart one, Granger. Weasley must be wearing off on you.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Potter bites from the right, and  _shit._  Draco’s forgotten to leave Potter’s friends alone, too. Still, the up and coming argument with Potter excites Draco, and he could use a bit of fun, along with convincing the room his confession was bullshit and he wasn’t in fact attracted to him.

“Oh, come to save the day?” Draco says, though not as darkly as he’d like.

“And what have you done, Malfoy?” Thomas starts, “Besides-“

“Dean.” Potter warns, but Pansy’s already shoved past Draco, ready to bite.

“Can’t we all just get along?” Neville pleads.

“We’re supposed to be cooperating, this is quite counter productive.” Luna adds, distantly.

Granger visibly freezes. “That’s it!”

For some betraying reason, the thought of Granger having had figured something out comforts Draco.

“What’s it?” Potter questions.

She looks around the room to find everybody staring at her, and sucks her teeth before stating, “I think we need to practice inter-house cooperation.”

“Well no shit, Granger!” Millicent shouts.

“I mean- I think we need to... get along. For the door to come back.”

“We were getting along.” Patil points out. “The door disappeared, not returned.”

Draco crosses his arms in annoyance as Granger is visibly stumped once more.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “Perhaps we need to practice each other’s house traits!”

“I’m dying to know what you believe Slytherin’s traits are.” Pansy says, mimicking Draco’s pose.

“I could name a few.” Finnigan snarks, earning a clap on the shoulder from Thomas.

“The Sorting Hat! It’s been reminding us of each other’s traits all night!” Granger excitedly beams.

_“‘The brightest witch of her age’_

_A statement so true,_

_A brain most complex_

_This hat has seen through.”_

Everyone stops. 

“Oh for Salazar’s Sake!” Millicent booms, but Granger ignores it and continues.

“That’s it then! For example, ‘Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindor apart’, so anyone not of Gryffindor house would have to show those traits!”

“This is ridiculous.” Draco says, heading for the couch again.

_“It is not, my dear boy_

_Perhaps you might find the best_

_When closing your mouth_

_And listening to the rest.”_

“Did the bloody thing just tell me to shut up?” Draco demands, causing Potter and his friends to burst out laughing, knocking at one another. If it wasn’t for the Calming Draught, the hat would be  _Incendio_ ’d.

“How do we know which traits to follow?” Girl-Weasley questions.

“Er...”

“We’re wearing the colors!” Luna exclaims, and Draco seers at his brilliant yet inappropriate cousin along with the color of his jumper. Granger eyes Draco’s sweater and smirks to herself.

“Right, so I need to practice Ravenclaw’s traits, ‘Where those of wit and learning will always find their kind’.”

The room scoffs, but Granger ignores it and continues, “And someone wearing yellow, such as Blaise or Ginny, would need to be ‘just and loyal’...” Blaise’s eyebrows raise, but if it’s from the use of his first name, or the idea of being ‘just’, Draco doesn’t know. “And well, Harry, you’d need to be cunning in some way.”

Now it’s Draco’s turn to scoff. “Potter? Slytherin?  _Please.”_

_"Harry James Potter,_

_With a troubled past, then furthermore_

_Was almost Slytherin before_

_Sorted into Gryffindor,"_

Potter smirks and shoves his hands in his pockets.

Draco has to use every ounce of composure to stop his jaw from falling to the floor.

Weasley throws his head back in laughter.

_“At last, I can tell you_

_That my work here is done_

_Piece together all the clues_

_And the night, you’ll have won.”_

The hat goes stiff and the blanket rises up to cover it once more.

“Okay, we can do this, it’s just a matter of how...” Granger says.

Potter reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of parchment.

“‘Have fun while practicing inter-house cooperation’.” he reads.

“Have fun?” Granger repeats.

Pansy puts her elbow on Draco’s shoulder, shifting in her heels, before saying, “We need to play another game.”

  


*.•

“Ouch!  _Neville!”_  Harry yells, rubbing at his jinxed thigh.

“Sorry!” his friend shouts back. Laughter comes from the observing crowd of Harry’s friends as they sit watching the dared duel take place. Harry cautiously peaks up from behind his hiding spot and surveys the room in search of Neville, who he finds inching up from behind a couch.

_“Rictusempra!”_  Harry bellows, and flicks the charm across the room. It smacks Neville right in the forehead, who then collapses to the floor in uncontrollable laughter.

“Seems he likes that one.” a snarky voice to Harry’s right says. He turns to see Malfoy whispering to Zabini, likely about the duel in their second year. The memory briefly captivates Harry’s thoughts, before-

_“Expelliarmus!”_

A red light flashes across his eyes, snapping Harry’s attention back to the duel. A sharp tug at his hand causes his wand to fly out of it and through the air, before a now standing Neville catches it. The room erupts as Harry’s friends stand shouting in disbelief, but all Harry can do is catch his breath. Neville had just disarmed him.

“A brilliant first dare.” Ron says, clapping Neville on the shoulder.

“Why thanks, Weasley!” Bulstrode calls.

“I’d say you exemplified the ‘hard-working’ trait of Hufflepuffs’, Neville.” Hermione says, checking him off the list she’d made. Luna stares admirably at the boy’s yellow sweater, before wrapping her arms around him in a congratulatory hug.

“Nice job, Harry.” Neville breathes, and hands him his wand. Harry nods and takes it, feeling a sense of pride for his friend. They all continue to congratulate him as they retake their seats on their cushions.

“Your turn, mate.” Dean reminds, nodding at the transfigured bottle in the middle of the circle. Neville hesitantly grabs his wand, before spelling it to spin. As it does, Harry looks across the circle to Malfoy, who shifts on his cushion when their eyes meet.

“Padma!” Ginny exclaims, causing Harry’s thoughts to be interrupted once more.

“Truth or dare?” Neville asks the girl.

“Um… truth!” Padma decides. Harry’s eyes move to the now still bottle facing her.

“Remember, the bottle will glow if you’re not being honest.” Hermione adds.

“Best go easy on her, Nev. We’ve seen what she can do with a wand.” Ginny picks at the pensive boy.

“Oh screw that! Give her a good one!” Bulstrode teases.

“Come on, mate.” Ron urges.

“Out of everyone in this room, who would you rather snog?” Neville asks. Padma ducks her head into her hands as the group  _oooooh_ ’s.

“Didn’t think Neville had it in him.” Seamus comments.

“Oh please, that’s nothing.” Parkinson says.

Harry eyes Padma in amusement as she blushes behind her fingers. She takes a deep breath in and fans her face before confessing, “Zabini.”

The bottle doesn’t glow.

The Slytherins look unbothered, Zabini in particular shrugging as though he’d consider it. The rest of the circle reacts with laugher and a series of unsurprised comments.

“That was brave of you to confess honestly!” Hermione says. “You’ve completed your Gryffindor trait!”

Padma looks down at her red blouse and smiles as Hermione checks her off the list, the pink in Padma’s face finally fading. Harry notices Zabini’s gaze hasn’t left her.

“Okay, my turn.” she says, and snaps her wand at the bottle, which bounces once before twirling. It stops just to the left of Padma, on Seamus.

“Dare!” he immediately says.

“Okay Seamus, I dare you to actually  _kiss_  whoever you find the most attractive.”

Harry chokes, the harsh reality of playing Truth or Dare with a bunch of eighteen year olds hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh dear… maybe this wasn’t the best idea.” Hermione says, reading Harry’s thoughts.

“What happens if you don’t complete a dare?” Harry ponders.

She turns to face him. “You must choose somebody else to do it for you.”

Seamus thinks for a while, before finally stating, “You’re all dashing, really, but I find two equally attractive.”

Dean sputters in laughter. “The git wants to kiss more than one person!”

Seamus winks to him.

“Only one!” Hermione squeals.

He sighs in defeat, before pushing himself to his knees. The circle freezes in anticipation as he crawls across it, right to Parkinson.

Showing a prime display of Gryffindor bravery.

Malfoy sits back in avoidance, causing Harry to chuckle to himself. Seamus scoffs and says, “I’m not here for you, blondie.”

Malfoy smirks. “Good. You couldn’t handle it.”

Harry can’t help but wonder if he himself could.

Parkinson looks to Malfoy for help, who raises his eyebrows, “Well, if you must.” he drawls. She sucks her lips in consideration and looks around the circle, then to the awaiting Seamus.

And then leans in and kisses him.

Ron and Harry lean against one another in laughing disbelief, Dean looks near faint, and Nott and Millicent rather disgusted. The kiss is over in a heartbeat, a simple smack of lips against one another, leaving Parkinson looking proud as though she’d done Seamus the greatest favor.

“If that’s not inter-house cooperation, I don’t want to know what is.” Ginny sighs, shaking her head.

Hermione looks up from behind her hands and moans, “What have I done?”

“Oh quiet Granger, it was just a kiss.” Parkinson snaps.

“For you, maybe.” Seamus responds, looking quite dazed.

“Who was the equally attractive one, mate?” Dean asks.

Seamus looks like a kid caught stealing in Honeydukes. “Um, Harry, obviously. Can’t resist that savior charm.”

The bottle glows as bright as Harry.

“Liar!” Ron yells. “Who’d wanna kiss Harry?”

“Oi!” Harry says, smacking Ron’s arm, avoiding the Slytherin’s laughter.

“He’s quite dreamy!” Luna says with a smile. Well, that’s reassuring, Harry thinks.

“Alright, everyone be quiet. Shay, go.” Dean says. Seamus pulls his wand and charms the bottle into motion, which stops on Luna.

“Why, dare of course.” she says, with an innocent smile.

Seamus rubs his hands together in mischief. “I dare you to sit in Neville’s lap for the next 5 turns.”

The circle cheers, and Luna, looking rather content with the dare, crawls across the circle and plops down onto Neville’s lap. She giggles at him shyly as a blush colors his cheeks. Harry can’t help but plead to Merlin internally that whoever lands on Harry doesn’t make him do anything as difficult.

“Alright Nev!” Ron says, making Luna laugh more.

“Wooo!” Zabini hollers, seeming in his element since the second game began. Malfoy simply shakes his head and stares down at his lap.

“How  _brave_  of you, Luna.” Hermione decides, and checks her friend’s name off the list.

“I’m glad I decided to wear this color tonight, in support of my lovely Gryffindor friends.” she sings, before spinning the bottle.

Harry looks at Malfoy, who was sitting back on his hands, smirking at something Parkinson had mentioned. He follows the trail of Malfoy’s slight smile, his relaxed shoulders, the move of his sweater as he speaks, and then his eyes, now staring at him… expectantly?

“Harry!” Ron pushes him.

“Wha- sorry! Geez!” Harry says, regaining his posture.

Ron leans in and whispers, “Stop starting at bloody Malfoy and pick truth or dare.”

_Oh crap._

The bottle was pointing at  _him._

“Um, truth.” Harry says, earning some “boo”s.

“Harry, I heard you did wandless magic quite successfully in Charms today. Is that true?”

Harry stutters. “Yes.”

The circle perks up.

“Can you show us?” Luna asks, causing most to agree instantaneously.

Hermione hums. “Wandless magic can be very dangerous, Harry. Please-“

“Be careful.” Harry and Ron finish.

Now nervous as ever, Harry looks around the room for inspiration. His gaze falls on the book that lay on the table behind Padma. He closes his eyes, and for the second time that day, finds the magic rippling through him. He guides a wave to his hand, and focuses on the book. Extending his now buzzing right arm, he thinks,

_Accio._

The book flies up and shoots into an outstretched hand, only it’s not Harry’s.

It’s Malfoy’s.

•.*

_Father will never hear about this._

Draco’s fingers wrap securely around the spine of Padma’s book as he ignores the shocked stares of the room. He flips through it, and frowns in acceptance at the choice of work.

“Not bad, Patil.” he says.

Pansy pinches Draco’s arm, though not drawing anything but a raised brow out of him.

“What?” he questions.

He looks around the circle once more, eye’s landing on the ones he’s gotten so familiar with tonight, and Draco can’t help but wonder, where did Potter and himself stand? After what he’d discovered in his free period it’d become difficult to hide the change in character. He wouldn’t call it avoiding, he’d taken too many appreciative glances… acquaintances? Definitely not. There was no completely accurate word to describe their odd relationship, and Draco thinks there might never be.

_What the bloody hell?_  Draco thinks once more.  _Fancying Potter like everyone else, what a betrayal._

“Care to explain what the ever-loving fuck just happened?” Pansy prods, bob swinging between Potter and Draco.

“Don’t look at me!” Potter shrugs.

Draco sighs. “I may have also become quite familiar with wandless magic…”

“DRACO!” his friends exclaim.

“What? There may have been a time where I was without a wand for a while.”

_“May have?”_

“Be honest, Draco.” Theo whispers from his right. “You’ve just stolen the book from Potter.”

Draco takes a breath, and while ignoring the curious glances from Granger, Luna, and Patil, fumes magic from his fingertips and levitates the book from one hand to the other.

Doing practical, safe spells was all Draco’d dared to do. He couldn’t risk a sneak jinx and remove his own eyebrows, so learning a summoning spell sufficed. His magic differed from feeling sometimes cool to warm, heavy air. It touched his toes to the top of his head, and enveloped him always. Casting it out wasn’t the difficult part, spreading and controlling it was. Draco wonders if it’s the same for Potter.

He lifts the book back into his original hand.

“Oh stop looking at me like that, it’s not as though I’m speaking to snakes. I moved a book.”

“Not many people who’ve only acquired six years of strict scholastic training can do that, Draco.” Granger urges.

_Draco?_

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Harry! I’ve read loads about this, you’ll need to accompany me to the library, maybe meet with Flitwick or McGonagall too…”

“Hermione, it’s really no big deal. Let’s just carry on.” Potter pleads.

“Agreed.” Draco says, and  _wait what?_  He’d just agreed with Potter?  _Out loud?_

Weasley looks at Draco as if he’d grown a second head.

Potter fumbles for his wand and flicks it at the bottle, sending it into a distracting spiral. The circle seems to relax and temporarily forget about the strange happenings that have just taken place as they fall into the hypnosis spiral the bottle seems to carry.

It slows on Granger, passes Patil, to the left of Finnigan, away from Thomas, towards Nott and  _no, absolutely not._

Draco expels his magic towards the bottle, to just  _inch_  it past himself and to Pansy, only theres a presence already on it. A waving, warm, welcoming presence. In the seconds that pass as the bottle oddly loops around again, Draco looks across to Potter, and sees his hand moving discretely under his knee.

“Potter!” Draco yells, startling the tense group.

The bottle stops.

“W-wha?” he questions.

“You’re moving the bottle!”

“Am not!”

The bottle glows.

“Harry!” Granger yells.

“I am not!”

The bottle glows brighter.

“Don’t be dishonest!” she replies.

Potter looks as though he’s about to say something, but purses his lips. The circle laughs as he cups his face in embarrassment. Draco can’t help but think it looks good on him.

“Whatever it was you were attempting, it’s quite… deceiving of you.” Granger sighs, checking Potter off the list.

“Deceiving! A Slytherin trait!” Millicent defends, then, “Well… actually…”

Blaise and Pansy shrug.

Potter then discretely looks to Draco, and pinches his green flannel and raises brows as in,  _Noticed this?_

Weasley looks around in utter confused repulsion. “Bloody hell.” he complains, and flicks his wand at the bottle for Potter, which lands on his sister. Girl-Weasley is then dared to arm-wrestle Longbottom, and once she’s won, high-fives her friends, which displays how ‘proud’ she is.

“It’s not even a Slytherin Silver sweater. It’s grey.” Pansy complains.

“It’s close enough.” Granger snaps, checking Girl-Weasley off.

She then spins the bottle, which stops on the other Patil, who proves her intelligence through a dare to list her coursework answers. Her Ravenclaw Blue blouse is appraised by her sister, and earns her a check off the list.

Patil then lands on Finnigan, who this time chooses truth, confessing he’d once been caught with a particularly raunchy magical magazine by Filch.

Finnigan’s turn ends with him giving a dare to Millicent, to much to her horror, do any spell she’d like on Blaise. After showing ‘loyalty’ (she’d been wearing Hufflepuff Black) by refusing to do so, she gave the dare to Luna, who decided on a voice heightening charm, which to the circle’s surprise, made Zabini  _laugh._

They then took a break to use the bathrooms supplied by the Room, drink, and eat.

The clock showed it was just past midnight.

Weasley’s Hufflepuff Yellow t-shirt was then given honor after their intermission, when he’d been dared to confess if he found anyone else attractive.

“Absolutely not.” he quickly spat.

The bottle didn’t glow.

“That’s er, loyalty, Hermione. Check him off.” Potter said, quite proudly.

A very pink Granger then did so.

Ron’s bottle then landed on Blaise, who’d shown another Hufflepuff trait of dedication, after he’d eaten three treacle tarts as a dare. Blaise then landed on Thomas, who’d, after being judged by his truth confession by Blaise, spat out an insult so filled with Ravenclaw wit Granger had to cross his name off the list through watery eyes.

The circle finally calms down from laughter.

Before Thomas can spin, Luna questions through a yawn, “Who’s left?”

Granger ruffles her hair. “Seamus, Theo, Pansy,” she runs her finger down the parchment, “and Draco.”

Thomas taps his wand at the bottle, and coincidentally, it lands on Pansy.

“Truth.” she states, sitting up straight.

“Let’s see,” Thomas licks his lips. “You and Malfoy, what’s the story?”

Draco’s friends cough out sudden laughter, causing him to smirk to himself. He looks to Potter, who fiddles with his laces.

“Draco and I?  _As if_  we could put up with one another. Besides, Draco’s as straight as Granger’s hair.”

Weasley coughs on his drink. The circle goes silent. Draco, over this, sighs and leans back. He’d gone through this in the Slytherin common room before, this time he’d leave it to Pansy.

“What? You didn’t know?” she asks, eyebrows up. “Look at him!”

Draco scoffs and raises a brow. “Look at me?” he pushes his sleeves to his elbows.

“Draco honey, you’re so polished someone could eat off of you.”

Potter coughs.

Draco looks at his manicured nails and frowns in agreement.

“Anyway, that’s settled. My turn at  _last.”_  Pansy sighs, brightening up the taken aback looks of the circle. She twists her wand at the bottle.

Of course it stops to the right of her, on Draco.

“Pansy, I  _swear,_ if you-“

“Let’s get you to confess something fun, Dray!” she claps excitedly.

“Dare!” he says quickly.

Pansy smiles mischievously.

_Fuck._

Suddenly Theo nudges him with his elbow, and nods to the trio.

“Ron, you’re being-“ Granger begins, only to be interrupted by a retort and bickering from the boys. Draco’s curiosity sparks and he sits up. The circle’s attention now all to the three arguing friends.

“-acting as if we’re all best mates-“

“That’s the point of this!”

“Guys, please.” Potter whispers.

“Hey!” Pansy snaps, causing them to flinch their way. “We’re playing a game here, people.”

“Stay out of it.” Weasley barks.

Blaise laughs in awaiting chaos. Longbottom wraps his arms around the still lap-sitting Luna.

“Watch it, weasel.” Draco snarks instinctively.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Potter bites right back.

A spark flies up Draco’s spine. “That’s all you got, Potter?”

“Draco…” Theo begins.

“It’s got nothing to do with you.” Potter responds.

“Oh please, we’re all here. Just leave your love triangle where we can’t see it.”

“How about you just don’t bloody look?”

“How about you stop arguing and play the game?”

“Me? You-“

“Oh sweet  _Merlin_  just fuckin’ kiss already!”

Everyone freezes, then looks to Finnigan.

“Wha? We’re all thinking it. You’ve been eye-shagging all bloody night, and let’s not forget your Amortentia confessions!”

An open mouthed Granger checks someone off her list.

Draco can’t move. Potter’s eyes haven’t left Finnigan. Millicent is laughing into her hand, Longbottom’s hiding in Luna’s hair, and Weasley looks pale as ever.

Pansy laughs, a witch’s cackle if any, and says,

“Draco, I dare you to kiss Potter.”

*.•

_Click._

The sound of something unlocking rings throughout the room, and the group stuck inside looks around for the source of the distinguished noise.

Harry freezes in place as his mind swarms from the exposure of what Seamus had said, the astonishing dare from Parkinson, and the sudden sound of an exit.

His friends stand and rush to the hallway, but Harry stays seated, overwhelmed by it all.

It is definitely an absolutely ridiculous situation he is in, Harry thinks, as he stares at the wall Seamus was once sitting in front of. Displayed on it are the school houses,

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin_

and the school motto,

_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus._

Harry’s friends rush back, arguing in the background of Harry’s thoughts: the door still wasn’t there.

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin_

Simple, Harry thinks. The houses of Hogwarts, representing the unique students that attended. Their purpose in the room: likely to influence inter-house cooperation.

_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus._

_Never tickle a sleeping dragon._

Harry makes a sudden realization, and jumps to his feet. The arguing around him continues, apart from his two closest friends.

“Harry?”

He’s silent as he stumbles past them, and looks around the room. The wall with mirrors, the wall with tapestries, the wall with crests, and the wall with paintings.

Confused calls from his friends come from behind him as he rushes to the artwork. Harry knows he’d lose his thoughts if he didn’t focus.

Hermione and Ron stand behind him as he checks the paintings, gliding his hand on the wall and frames as he searches through various star maps and landscapes of Hogwarts.

“Harry-“

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon.” he whispers.

He’d found it.

A dragon.

A French Fierce, if he could remember correctly, sleeping soundly underneath a painted tree.

_This has to be it,_  Harry thinks. He reaches out, and itches his finger against the creature. It flinches, the tiny thing, and yawns fire out of its fanged mouth, casting the painting warm. Harry and his friends watch in awe as it then stretches, and roars.

A small, muffled roar, behind the canvas.

Which then swings open.

Revealing a door at the end of a corridor.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Hermione exclaims, with a laugh of disbelief.

“All we had to do was tickle a sodding dragon to get out? I’m sure Dumbledore’s portrait helped McGonagall think of this one.” Ron groans.

The rest of the group curiously walks up behind the trio.

“Merlin’s tits!” Seamus yells.

“You did it!” Dean exclaims, engulfing Harry.

“Thank Salazar.” Malfoy says, knocking his shoulder against Harry’s and strutting down the hall.

Parkinson strides by with a wink to the three. “Catch ya later, dorks.” She turns around to blow a teasing smooch to Harry.

The rest of Malfoy’s crew then follow. Zabini shoves Harry’s shoulder with a smirk, Nott nods to the trio, and Bulstrode says, “Not too bad, Granger.”

Once the door at the end of the hall closes behind the Slytherins, Harry feels a sense of emptiness. Hermione squeals in delight.

“What?” Ron questions.

“We got along with  _Slytherins!_  That’s a prime example of inter-house cooperation!”

Ginny comes over, and tucks under Dean’s arm. “What a night, Hermione.” She kisses the trio’s cheeks, smiling to Harry before walking down the hall with Seamus and Dean. Neville and Luna are next to leave.

“Tonight exceeded my expectations, Hermione. You’re a magnificent host.” Luna hums.

“See ya, Ron, Harry.” Neville smiles.

The Patils leave last, before the trio follows behind. Hermione takes one last look at the room, and smiles to herself.

Posted on the large oak doors is a note.

_Well done. Meet Monday morning._

_-MM_

The walk back to the eighth year common room is not uneventful.

“Malfoy?  _Malfoy._  Malfoy, Harry.  _Malfoy.”_

“You’re starting to sound like Harry, saying his name that much.” Hermione tells Ron.

Harry sighs. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what the hell is going on. We were all trapped in there and then-“

“Speaking of, can we talk about the fact that our headmaster  _locked us in a bloody room?”_

“Ronald, please. It’s late, let’s just talk about it in the morning…” Hermione pleads.

He looks to her as though she’d insulted him. “No offense love, but do either one of you ever take a second to see what the actual hell is going on?”

Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “No time for that, Ron.”

Ron shakes his head. “Malfoy…” he scoffs.

Hermione laughs and takes Harry’s hand, squeezing it. As Ron trails ahead, she raises their hands and whispers, “Always, Harry. No matter what.”

Harry groggily smiles to her.

Their shoes on the marble floor are the only noise for a few beats, and a wave of exhaustion washes over Harry.

“You know, Seamus was rather shrewd making those observations…”

Harry opens his mouth to question, but Hermione continues.

“Pansy was daring to give such a blatantly problematic dare, Theo must have said something wise to Draco, and Draco, well…”

She bites her lip, and Harry looks at her expectantly.

“Oh, Harry. He was in Gryffindor Red too. He must have been thinking something brave. The only way the painting would unlock is by all of us doing our assigned traits, and Draco must have done his, he was the last one at that point…”

“What’re you saying, ‘Mione?”

_“He must have been thinking something brave._  Meaning he was considering going through with the dare… considering kissing you.”

Harry keeps walking, although it feels his heart jumped out of his chest and thumped onto the floor behind them.

Once they’ve arrived to a very empty common room, Harry bids goodnight to Hermione and shuffles into his favorite pajamas before collapsing in bed. When he’d walked into his dorm room, Neville was already snoring. Seamus and Dean were awake, sitting on their beds as though waiting for Harry. When Seamus’d said nothing, Dean threw a pillow at him.

“I’m sorry Harry, for saying that.”

Harry half smiles, “S’fine, really.”

Harry’d only wanted to go the night without embarrassing himself and get safely to his bed. The Potter-Malfoy accusations that came along with being locked in the Room of Requirement didn’t affect him too much.

Malfoy himself, did.

Harry now lays in bed, arms folded on his stomach. A shiver runs through him, and he flicks his wand at the pot belly stove, warming the room further.

_“He was considering going through with the dare… considering kissing you.”_

_That,_  Harry thinks,  _or considering to bravely kill Seamus in front of everyone._

Harry rolls onto his side, thoughts of Malfoy’s smirk on his mind.

_“Considering kissing you.”_

Harry shifts and fluffs his pillow to the noise of Ron grunting in his sleep. The moonlight shines through the ironed glass windows, leaving shadows on his bed.

_“Malfoy, Harry. Malfoy.”_

Black blazer, dragon hide boots, red sweater, Malfoy. Laughing at a comment from Zabini, Malfoy. Second highest marks in class, Malfoy. Never caught a snitch against Harry, Malfoy. Sneer perfecting, tea sipping, finger flipping, Malfoy. Captivating eyes, sharp nose, white teeth, Malfoy.

Harry sits up in bed and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

_“Malfoy, Harry. Malfoy.”_

Harry’s more than attracted to him, it’s way more than that.

He swings his legs over to the ground, his socks hitting the floor.

_Way more than that._

He rests his elbows on his knees and sighs into his hands, before deciding on a trip to the bathroom. Ron is easy to creep past, Dean’d just turned off his lantern, Seamus knocked out immediately, and Neville was mumbling in his sleep.

Harry sleepily sniffs into the back of his hand as he shuffles towards the bedroom door. The hallway is dark, the light from the common room shining down one end. The door opposite of his is sealed shut, the Slytherins likely asleep.

After getting a glass of water and washing his face, Harry opens the bathroom door back to the hallway, and almost bumps into someone.

Black trousers, white shirt, blonde hair, shocked eyes.

Malfoy’s staring down at Harry, smelling strongly of spice cologne.

•.*

“Potter?”

The ruffled haired boy steps back. “Sorry.”

He’s fixing his glasses, looking sleepy and out of place in his Quidditch pajamas.

The air is heavy with silence.

“Well, move.” Draco says, though he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

Potter steps around him awkwardly, and Draco quickly shuts the door behind himself. The low lit bathroom illuminates his features as he stares at himself in the mirror, and the night’s events flash in his mind.

_I’m about to do something stupid._

He splashes his face with water, shaky hands reaching for a napkin to pat himself dry. His reflection smiles shyly to himself, fixing his posture and straightening his shirt.

_Don’t do anything stupid._

Draco sighs and shakes thoughts of catching Potter before he goes back to his room from his head, and decides to safely go straight to bed. The tile floor is cool as he walks to the bathroom door, which he then swings open.

And someone crashes into him.

He’s pushed back into the room, catching himself on his feet. Before he can do anything about it, a pair of lips collides with his, needy and urgent and…

Draco pushes hard against the chest on his. Across him now stands Potter, disheveled and all, against the bathroom door, looking worried as though expecting a hex.

“I’m sorry Malfoy, I shouldn’t have-“

”I felt you in guilt.” Draco says to himself. Potter stares back at him, those bright, warm eyes swimming with confusion.

”In shame,” a step closer.

“Confusion,” he scoffs to himself. 

“Anger,” another step, an agreeing nod.

”Fear,” he stops, flicking his eyes around Potters face.

”Sadness.” Draco whispers into the air between them. Potter pushes off of the door and takes a hesitant step closer.

Draco swallows. ”Happiness...”

“Draco, I-“

“Love.” Draco shakes his head as he closes the final gap between them, grabs Potter's face, and joins their lips once again.

All frustration, all curiosity, all _wanting,_ he pours into his lips and easily deepens it with a turn of his jaw. His hands move to Potter’s familiar, sweet smelling hair, and Draco takes in the softness of it, along with the unsure movement of Potter's lips, his fluttering long lashes, his sharp inhales, and  _wow._

Draco was kissing Potter.

Guess he’s brave after all.

_Take that, Pansy._

But it’s more than being brave, it’s Potter. _Harry._ The one he’d known for years, through bullying and bickering and betrayal and opposite sides of war.

_Screw that,_ Draco thinks. That’s all gone now. Now it’s  _just Harry_. And he wants to kiss Draco just as much as Draco wants to kiss him.

And he is.

•.* Fin *.•


End file.
